The Distrest Mother :: :: University of Virginia Library

Since Fancy of it self is loose and vain,
The wise by Rules, that airy Power restrain;
They think those Writers mad, who at their Ease
Convey this House and Audience where they please;
Who Nature's stated Distances confound,
And make this Spot all Soils the Sun goes round:
'Tis nothing, when a fancy'd Scene's in view,
To skip from Covent-Garden to Peru.

But Shakespear's self transgress'd; and shall each Elf,
Each Pigmy Genius, quote Great Shakespear's self!
What Critick dares prescribe what's just and fit,
Or mark out Limits for such boundless Wit!
Shakespear could travel thro' Earth, Sea and Air,
And paint out all the Powers and Wonders there.
In barren Desarts he makes Nature smile,
And gives us Feasts in his Enchanted Isle.

Our Author does his feeble Force confess,
Nor dares pretend such Merit to transgress;
Does not such shining Gifts of Genius share,
And therefore makes Propriety his Care.
Your Treat with study'd Decency he serves;
Not only Rules of Time and Place preserves,
But strives to keep his Characters intire,
With French Correctness and with British Fire.

This Piece presented in a Foreign Tongue,
When France was Glorious, and her Monarch young,
A hundred times a crowded Audience drew;
A hundred times repeated, still 'twas new.

Pyrrhus provok'd, to no wild Rants betray'd,
Resents his generous Love so ill repay'd;
Does like a Man resent, a Prince upbraid.
His Sentiments confess a Royal Mind,
Nor is he known a King from Guards behind.

Injur'd Hermonie demands Relief;
But not from heavy Narratives of Grief:
In conscious Majesty her Pride is shewn;
Born to avenge her Wrongs, but not bemoan.

Andromache—If in our Author's Lines,
As in the great Original, she shines,
Nothing but from Barbarity she fears.
Attend with Silence; you'll applaud with Tears.